


warm apple cider

by pipsqueakparker (lafbaeyette)



Series: fictober 2020 [18]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Food Poisoning, Just to warn you, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, Vague Descriptions of Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/pipsqueakparker
Summary: Bunce asked us if we could find our way out of the flat today, she and the Normal wanted some alone time. I was just going to take Simon back to my flat, but Fiona decided she would be coming back early from her trip, knocking that option out. (Not that I don’t love my aunt, but sometimes it’s just easier to keep her away from Simon. For my sanity’s sake.)We were just going to drive around for a bit, maybe find somewhere to spend some time, try to have our own day to ourselves. Simon ended up looking up events happening around and found this little autumnal festival, which is where we ended up.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: fictober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949911
Comments: 6
Kudos: 101





	warm apple cider

**Author's Note:**

> day 18: warm apple cider
> 
> _me? take a bad experience and twist it around into a fic abt tender boyfriends and trust and caring for someone you love?_
> 
> _it's more likely than you think_
> 
> this one's late because this was harder to write than i thought it would be, but we're not skipping out on a day just because we can't stomach something so _here we be_. 
> 
> very big thank yous to The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff & annabelleluxe for looking this one over for me. My loves. You're stars. 
> 
> **tw: sickness**   
> the plot of this fic involves food poisoning, so there is a moment of vom. it's as vague as i could make it 'cause i didn't enjoy writing it, but this is just the warning for anyone else that may be sensitive to it.

**BAZ**

“We should get lunch,” Simon says, swinging our joined hands between us as we follow a dirt path toward a picnic area.

Bunce asked us if we could find our way out of the flat today, she and the Normal wanted some _alone time_. I was just going to take Simon back to my flat, but Fiona decided she would be coming back early from her trip, knocking that option out. (Not that I don’t love my aunt, but sometimes it’s just easier to keep her away from Simon. For my sanity’s sake.)

We were just going to drive around for a bit, maybe find somewhere to spend some time, try to have our own day to ourselves. Simon ended up looking up events happening around and found this little autumnal festival, which is where we ended up.

There are a few booths set up selling donuts, mulled wine, apple cider and the like. Some have handcrafted scarves, toboggans, and other accessories and gifts. There’s a small pumpkin patch at one corner, and we’ve seen several signs for a haunted maze happening tonight. Simon’s absolutely taken by the whole scene, grinning from ear to ear the entire time as we move from booth to booth.

It’s lovely to see him so happy. He’s positively _glowing_ , I swear, and it’s not just because of the way the sun catches on his skin and in his eyes. We’ve been holding hands nearly the whole time, he’s not shown the smallest sign of being worried about doing so in public. He even kissed my cheek, right here in broad daylight.

We see more good days than bad as of late, but the bad can still get quite bad. I worry about him a lot, that he’s still hiding a lot of truths from me. That he’s doing worse than he lets on. I don’t think he is today, though. He seems genuinely thrilled to be here, to be taking in everything around us.

It’s absolutely wonderful.

“Street taco sounds good, yeah?” he asks under his breath. He’s stopped walking to take a look around at the various food trucks and booths surrounding the picnic area. To be honest, none of them quite catch my eye, and I’ve always been a bit skeptical of food trucks as a whole. I don’t say this out loud, though, because Simon’s having a good day.

“We can get whatever you want, love,” I tell him. He beams at me.

“You sure, though?” He asks, and I nod, winning an even brighter smile before he starts toward the taco truck. The line’s fairly short, I scan the menu while Simon’s making his order. (Three chorizo tacos, an order of guacamole and tortilla chips.)

“And for you?” The man in the truck asks me. I try to think of the safest thing to order from a food truck, but for some reason ‘chicken taco’ is what comes out of my mouth.

I live with my decisions.

Simon chatters away about something we saw earlier as we wait, standing off to the side of the line. He’s so lovely, making himself laugh, and I watch him with a smile on my lips.

When our food is ready Simon grabs both plates and I follow him to a mostly empty picnic table. He scarfs down his tacos at an alarming rate. I should be disgusted. (I’m not.)

“D’ya think we should do that haunted maze?” He asks around a mouthful of chorizo and guacamole. (I should _really_ be disgusted by him.) “Just a couple hours from now, innit?”

“We can if you’d like,” I tell him. He brushes my ankle with his foot under the table.

“Do _you_ want to?”

“I think it could be fun,” I say. He smiles, knocking his foot against me again.

After lunch we find ourselves walking around again, trying to find things to do with our time before the maze. Simon pulls me into a long queue for the apple cider, mostly because he sees the phrase _apple cider donuts_ on a sign above the booth.

It feels like we’re stood there forever.

“These donuts best be worth it,” I mutter in Simon’s ear, stood behind him with my arms around his waist. He seems to be okay with public displays of affection today so I’d like to take advantage of it while I can. I let myself stand close to him, touch him, hold him when he leans back into me. I press a kiss right behind his ear and he covers my hands with his own. (They’re warm, which is nice because the weather’s getting colder as the sun goes down.)

The sun’s set by the time we reach a table again, each of us with a donut and cup of warm apple cider in hand. Simon eats his so quickly I’d wonder if he truly tasted it if it weren’t for the near-pornographic moans he made as he ate. (They’re deserved, of course, the apple cider donut _is_ delicious.)

“I should make these,” he says, taking a drink from his cup of cider. “They can’t be that hard. We could make a trip of it with your siblings or something, go apple picking and such.”

“That sounds lovely, Simon,” I say. It does, though I’m not sure how much I’m enjoying the donuts. They’re awfully sweet, and while I usually have quite the sweet tooth, tonight they’re not sitting well. I end up giving Simon the rest of my donut and cider, opting instead for a bottle of water.

——

I’m fine until we’re queueing up for the maze.

I lean against Simon a bit, my stomach is turning too much to truly enjoy the feeling of his arm sliding around my waist. It feels like I’ve got a rock in my gut, a rock that desperately wants to be ejected.

“Are you alright, love?” Simon asks, his warm hand cupping my cheek.

I turn my face into his palm and nod slowly. My eyes slip shut against the swirling sick feeling climbing up through my chest. I swallow thickly, purposefully.

“Y’sure? You’re… paler than usual.” I feel his lips on my forehead then, and I’m terribly annoyed that I can’t even relish in it. “D’ya wanna go sit down?”

“‘M fine,” I bite out, shaking my head. The movement’s got my stomach bubbling even more. I try to keep a straight face, fight back the feeling. I just have to make it through this maze, then we can head back home. Surely once we’re in there I’ll be able to shift my focus, the nausea will subside.

I must not be hiding it that well because not even five minutes later Simon’s squeezing my waist, trying to pull me away from the queue.

“Let’s sit.”

I open my mouth to argue, then immediately clamp it shut again.

“You look like you’re about to be sick, love.”

I can’t argue. I let him lead me, focusing all of my attention on _not_ being sick.

I sit on the edge of a concrete step with my eyes screwed shut, taking in deep, slow breaths through my nose.

**SIMON**

Baz is going to be sick.

I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Baz sick?

He’s a vampire, I wouldn’t imagine there’d be much that’d make him sick.

His face is pale, paler than usual.

He’s absolutely silent, eyes squeezed shut, nostrils flaring as he breathes slowly.

“Want to find the loo?” I offer. He shakes his head.

I swear I can see his face turning green the longer we sit here.

“Want me to get you some water?” I try again.

“ _No_.”

I reach out a cautious hand, rub his back gently.

He shrugs his shoulder, pushing me away.

A few moments of silence pass between us.

Baz’s eyes snap open and I see them lock on the bin across the path from us.

He’s on his feet before I can blink, striding quickly to the bin, a hand clasped over his mouth.

**BAZ**

_“Want to find the loo?”_

_“Want me to get you some water?”_

Simon’s trying to be helpful. He’s trying to care for me, which I appreciate to no end.

_But I need him to stop speaking._

I need to focus.

If I can just _focus,_ this will pass.

I just need to breathe through it.

Then, we can go back to the maze. 

I just need to breathe through it.

We can enjoy the rest of our night.

_I’m not going to just breathe through it._

The realization washes over me along with sweeping embarrassment at what I know is about to happen.

I open my eyes and quickly sweep the area.

_A bin. Good._

I’m on my feet in an instant, channeling as much of my vampire reflexes as I can.

_I’m fast, I can make it._

The rock in my stomach is spinning violently.

_I’m fast, I can make it._

I clasp a hand over my mouth.

My skin’s itchy all over, my face is hot. Is this how Simon felt when he had his magic? When he was filled to the brim and couldn’t control it?

_I’m fast, I can make it._

The rock lurches.

I don’t make it.

Before I can stop myself, or even reach the bin, I find myself surrounded by my own shame. My stomach’s convulsing and my eyes are burning from tears, my head pounding from the pressure.

It’s so violent I almost think I’m about to die, but it’s over almost as soon as it began. Only now I’m stood in the middle of this festival, embarrassed and exhausted, covered in my own sick.

I’m frozen in place, my mind reeling and my head aching. I don’t know the first thing to do. I don’t even realize that there are tears streaming down my face until Simon’s there — _when did he get here? —_ wiping at my face with a paper napkin.

He’s got a handful of napkins, apparently. And he’s using them to gently wipe at my mouth, my cheeks. He holds a couple out for me to wipe off my hand, then he’s cleaning my chin.

I want to tell him to stop, to go away, to let me handle it. But at the same time I’m suddenly feeling so _weak_ , every part of my body hurts, and the nausea has subsided a bit but it’s not gone.

**SIMON**

I want to say something like “I told you so” or “You should have listened to me”, but now probably isn’t the moment, so I bite my tongue.

Though if he _had_ listened to me, this probably would’ve been less messy.

Thankfully there’s a table nearby with some paper napkins on it. I grab a fistful and start cleaning him up, wiping his face off before moving to the front of his jumper.

I’ve never seen Baz this disheveled. He’s staring blankly ahead, _crying_ , his nose is running, and his face is flushed redder than I’ve ever seen.

“Oh, love,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss his forehead after I’ve cleaned his face up. He’s still clutching onto a stack of napkins I gave him a moment ago. I hold another clean napkin up to his nose, “Blow.”

That’s when his eyes finally wander over to me. I repeat myself, firmer, and he does. He nearly made it to the bin, close enough that I can toss the napkins as I use them.

I grab the hem of his jumper, pulling it up a bit. “C’mon, arms. We need to get you out of this one.”

He lifts his arms slowly, letting me pull his jumper over his head. I wad it up carefully, keeping the dirty side rolled in, before slipping my jacket off and letting him put it on.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers after I’ve taken care of his jumper.

“No need, darling, let’s just get you home.” I kiss his forehead again. “Will you be okay in the car back?”

He nods slowly.

Then, as suddenly as before, turns to the bin and is sick again. (At least he hit the bin this time. And I’ve still got some napkins.)

**BAZ**

Simon scoops my hair into his hands as I lean over the bin, holding it up and off of my neck. He’s rubbing my back with the other hand, whispering sweet words like _“it’s okay”_ and _“I’ll get you some water”_ and _“I’ll run the laundry when we get home”_.

He walks me back over to the steps when I’m finished, and he’s procured a water bottle from somewhere. My mind is still floating and all I want to do is go to _sleep_. My stomach is still rolling, though, and I’m afraid of any more incidents.

My head is pounding.

And I’m so tired.

At some point Simon deems it safe to lead me back to the car, letting me slip into the cool leather interior of the back seat. He doesn’t usually drive, and in fact, I don’t think he’s even gotten his driving license.

The concern is out of my head as quickly as it came.

I lie down across the seat and Simon’s found an old jumper in the floorboards (which he probably left in here) for me to rest my head on. I want to say thank you, but I can’t find the strength to say anything at all.

“Roll over to your other side, dear,” Simon whispers, pushing at my shoulder until I turn the other way, facing the rear. “Less likely to be sick again on this side.”

The door shuts, another opens and then shuts again, and the car starts.

I press my forehead against the back of the seat.

I must fall asleep on the way because before I know it the door’s open again and Simon’s helping pull me out.

My head hurts a bit less, but my eyes are still sore, and tired, and teary. Simon’s holding me around the waist as we head up to his flat.

“Is Penelope okay with me coming over?” I think to ask, but I hear my own words slur a bit. Crowley, this is mortifying. Simon just nods, though, not commenting on it.

“I called her from the car, she said she’s got some ginger tea waiting for you.”

I scowl at the generosity.

**SIMON**

I manage to get Baz home and into bed in one piece. Penny did put on some tea after I called her. I bring two cups into my room and hand one to Baz.

He seems a bit more alert now, though he still looks pale and tired. I’m hoping the sick is behind us, at least.

I crawl into bed next to him, wrapping my arms around him and letting him rest his head against my shoulder. He must’ve eaten something wrong, that’s what Penny suggested. We don’t think vampires can necessarily get sick, but perhaps they’re still susceptible to food poisoning.

Either way he clearly isn’t feeling well, he’s hardly said a word since we’ve gotten back. I think he’s been crying on and off, too, though I don’t know if he’s aware. I only noticed when I felt my shirt getting wet, so I pulled him closer and wiped at his cheeks.

“D’you need anything else, love?” I ask, softly. He shakes his head and I hope he’s not lying.

I think he may be embarrassed a bit, too. He’s not even looked at me much.

I’m hoping a night’s rest will help.

He must be tired.

I’m trying to think of some way to get his mind off of it, at least distracted enough to fall asleep. I see one of his thick books on the bedside table.

“Can I read to you?” I ask, stretching to reach it then turning it open to the first marked page. “I know you like to read before bed, but I imagine you’re tired.”

It takes him a few seconds to respond, but he finally nods.

I play with his hair as I read. I think I stumble over a few words, but I also feel Baz relaxing further into my side as I go on, until his breathing evens out.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: [@pipsqueakparker](https://pipsqueakparker.tumblr.com)
> 
> (also if you're in the US and 18+, don't forget to register to vote! don't forget to vote! vote early! vote safely! if you ever need any help figuring out how to vote, how to check your registration, anything, feel free to message me on tumblr or smt and i'll help you find the resources you need)


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